


“ Everything I wanted to say is useless now. “

by s1nn3r



Category: The Simpsons
Genre: Angst, Burns fuckin died man, Hurt No Comfort, I need to watch the episode with Nigel in it, M/M, One Sided Attraction, Probably will edit if I need to, assistant crying at a cemetery, at least it appears that way, because I KNOW I got something wrong, but I wanted to post this anyway, can’t get a POV from a dead man, how do you tag, i say as I continue to write it, poor Waylon he doesn’t deserve this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-05
Updated: 2020-12-05
Packaged: 2021-03-09 20:40:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,364
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27882393
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/s1nn3r/pseuds/s1nn3r
Summary: In where Waylon sits alone, and apologizes for what happened.
Relationships: Charles Montgomery Burns/Waylon Smithers
Comments: 2
Kudos: 22





	“ Everything I wanted to say is useless now. “

The evening air was cold, almost too cold, as if even the weather was mocking Waylon as he traveled to the last place he’d ever want to be. 

It had been a week since the incident, Waylon counted the seemingly endless days, full of nothing but Smithers’ own crying and regret. He had shut himself inside his own house and refused to come out for seven days straight, the only reason he /had/ came out was the fact he was low on food and was overall in bad shape. It didn’t help that he was missing work, the plant was probably going to shit with the new owner. The day “it” happened, Burns had a morning meeting planned with another company to discuss terms of a business agreement. Smithers didn’t know the thick and thin of the situation, Burns never told him much when it came to other businesses, but whatever it was Monty was keen on refusing to let his assistant drive him to the meeting place for “reasons” as his boss put it.

“ I’m not senile yet, Smithers. I’m very much capable of driving myself. “

The sentence was full of pure acid, much similar to the glare Charles had directed at Waylon when he asked if Monty was positive. Are you sure Mr. Burns, It’s no trouble to drive you myself Mr. Burns. The questions laughed at Waylon as they collected in the back of his mind, the memory of the event making Waylon cringe. Smithers wondered if he should have been more demanding, no, he was sure he should’ve been more demanding. Maybe if he wasn’t such a pushover, if he was more assertive, Montgomery Burns wouldn’t be dead as we speak. Maybe Smithers wouldn’t feel so guilty, thinking that it was his fault. /Knowing/ it was his fault. It always was. 

Burns would’ve never seen it coming. A drunk truck driver had ran the red light at an intersection not 10 minutes away from his initial arrival area. The expensive car Monty was driving was crushed instantly at such high speeds of impact, leaving no practical chance of the billionaire’s survival even if he had made it out of the car crash due to the pure shock of the accident. A phone call informing Smithers about his boss’ death broke him for a good while. Waylon intentionally missed the funeral, he couldn’t bear the thought of seeing the man he pinned after for so many years in that open casket, let alone think about the fact he was no longer with him. Thinking about it now, he kind of wished he did attend, pay his respects directly instead of standing in front of an imprinted gravestone like he was now.

“Charles Montgomery Burns, 1886-xxxx, Died a charming fellow who left an impact on us all. “

Waylon snorted at the description, his eyes lidding into an upset expression. Yeah, it was true he left an impact on numerous people- only about a third of those could be considered anything positive, but it was an impact nonetheless. Waylon couldn’t help but wonder if Monty had pre-paid someone to design the tombstone, it was pretty much your average grave except for the giant sculpted figure of Burns’ face above the date of death. “Typical.” Smithers thought, but the detail made him smile sadly as the face carved on the stone seemed to stare back at him. The imprint was smiling, but it looked rather malicious and wrong. Everything looked so incredibly wrong to Waylon right now. 

He missed Monty already. So much. 

Behind his back, Waylon took out the bouquet of scarlet roses he had concealed from the harsh wind, that of which slowed surprisingly when he got to the grave. He was near positive fresh roses were Monty’s favorite type of flower, he had always requested wine-red buds to be put out in a vase accompanying his dinner, leaves plucked and petals ripe to perfection. Burns had always liked perfection. Even if it was so little as pouring a drink, he wanted it to be perfect. Label up, bottle tilted at a 90 degree angle, filled halfway to the top, not a drop more or less. Most would find it tedious and aggravating, but it was something Smithers admired about the older man. Not that he didn’t admire everything else about Burns, but this instance was one of only some he’d ever say aloud. 

Smithers set the flowers down in front of the gravestone, the dirt still freshly dug from the ceremony a few days ago. He had them in a glass vase, he knew Burns would probably throw a fit in whatever place he ended up in after death if Waylon tossed such a gift in the dirt. Smithers couldn’t help but dryly chuckle at the thought, but he quickly went silent as he stared at the grave. He slowly kneeled before the stone, sighing. No one was around, the cemetery was surprisingly empty for a Saturday. There was a lot he never told Burns. Well, /will/ never tell Burns, but maybe this way he could at least get them off his mind.

“ Hey, Monty. ” He started, Smithers knew how much Burns hated the nickname to be used in public, but he felt this would be an exception.

“ I must look pretty damn sorry right now, kneeling in the dirt like this- ” He joked a bit, quickly muttering a useless apology when he realized the crass language he used. 

“ I think you would’ve found that funny enough to chuckle at despite my language, I’m glad, I’ve always loved your laugh. Even if it was because you were acting cruel towards your own workers or cackling when releasing those rabid dogs on strangers, I always enjoyed hearing your laugh.. ” He rambled to no one, looking up at the sculpted Burns in the stone.

“ I know you didn’t want anyone taking it over, but if you recall your friend who tried to buy out the company a while back, Nigel, ended up succeeding in taking it once the higher ups heard you passed. They took his offer almost immediately. I’ve honestly been thinking of quitting, but- ” Waylon sighed, but he went on, quickly abandoning the subject. He didn’t want to make this about his petty work troubles when Monty wasn’t even here with him in a physical sense. 

“ You probably thought I was simply ‘sucking up to my boss’ when I said you were in your prime, that you looked dashing or complimented you endearingly, but I meant every word of it. I really did. People would constantly call you hideous or a disgusting individual, but I knew they were simply jealous of your wealth or your charming personality. They couldn’t see you for the real you, none of them.” Waylon looked into the eyes of the stone Burns, his hands fisting the bottom of his suit shirt as he continued. “ I’m going to miss you so much, Monty.. You didn’t deserve this at all.. I’m mainly to blame for not being more assertive on driving you.. ” He went on, feeling tears prick at his eyes ever so slightly as he diverted his gaze from the tomb, croaking out a sentence that broke him.

“ I loved you so much.. ”

His own usage of the past tense of ‘love’ might’ve been what did it for him, the fact that he’d never see Monty again and the fact his feelings had no chance of ever being reciprocated. “As if you had a chance in the first place,” his mind shot back at him rudely. He wanted to get up and run out of the cemetery, to lock himself up in his house again and cry until he couldn’t cry anymore. His mind went to extremely dark places in a near flash, and he felt himself shiver in the cold air that suddenly dawned upon him. He needed to get out, he couldn’t take this. Get out, get out, get out-

But his legs failed him, and he didn’t move an inch. So he sat there, cold and sobbing on his knees in front of his deceased love interest, wishing he could take it all back.


End file.
